


Fireside

by castielsstarr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jess is alive, M/M, Mary is still dead, though you don't see her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/castielsstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary used to love Christmas. Dean tries not to let it bother him, but around this time, it's hard not to think about his mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireside

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Destiel Christmas Mini Bang! The prompt was Fireplace. I'm sorry this one did not end up fluffy and bright. But I'm also not sorry because I live for hurt/comfort.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [burningwicker](http://www.burningwicker.tumblr.com)
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> Main blog: [castielsstarr](http://www.castielsstarr.tumblr.com)  
> SPN NSFW Multi-ship Sideblog: [wingedwincest](http://www.wingedwincest.tumblr.com)

The reds, oranges and yellows flickered together with just the slightest hint of blue close to the logs; the hottest part of the fire. The part that would hurt the worst when touched. Not that the rest of it wouldn’t cause pain, too. Just that particular part would be even worse. A shiver ran through Dean’s body and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was cold (which he was) or if it was his nerves.

It was the same every fucking year.

He was torn between moving closer to the fireplace to let it truly warm him or getting the hell away from it. To a place where it had no chance of hurting him. The indecision swirling in his gut left him seated exactly where he was and he pulled the blanket tighter around him. With his knees tucked into his chest, Dean just sat there and stared. 

He liked Christmas—honestly, he did. It was always nice to just sit and hang out with his little family. A few years ago they all agreed that they wouldn’t go on any hunts during the holidays. Just for one week a year, they had a confirmed break. They got to sit, relax, heal and do a whole lot of nothing. Except drinking. There was definitely a lot of that. 

Sam and Jess were always around this time of year, nagging the shit out of him to bake something. Dean would quickly shoot back that he didn’t bake. “Baking” implied that he could cook more than one thing, but he did make a mean pecan pie, and they all knew it. Jess, who always spoke her mind, would gush over his pies in between shoving whole fork fulls in her mouth.

It was nice to spend the evenings watching movies together, Sam curled up halfway on Jess’ lap and Cas tucked against Dean’s side. It was a chance to laugh, to unwind. They didn’t get it often enough, especially when they were able to all be together.

Jess didn’t hunt. Sam refused to let her into that part of his life at all for the longest time, but eventually he opened up and told her about the things that go bump in the night. She had taken it so much better than either brother had expected. Sam knew he wanted her to stick around permanently after that.

Dean jumped as the fire gave a loud crack, drawing his attention back. He sighed heavily and laid his forehead against the top of his knees, pulling a bit of the blanket up over his head.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice was very low and soft. It almost sounded far away, but the hand against his left shoulder blade told him it wasn’t. “Is something wrong?”

“No… no, everything’s fine, Cas.” Dean cleared his voice a little. “I’m good.”

“You shouldn’t lie to me. I could sense your unhappiness from more than two rooms away.”

“You actually moved to the other room to test that, didn’t you?”

“Of course. And I was correct. You’re projecting a lot today.” Cas sunk down to the floor behind Dean, an awkward hand still laid on his back. Not moving yet, just resting. Feeling.

Dean muttered to himself a string of unintelligible protestations before lifting his head to turn slightly and glance at Cas before quickly turning away again. “Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.”

Cas didn’t reply with anything, just simply began slowly rubbing his hand up and down the length of Dean’s spine. He knew it wouldn’t take long for Dean to cave.

The next time Dean turned back around, his eyes were wet with tears that he hadn’t let go of yet. It was with the smallest voice possible that he whispered, “I miss her.” Even to Castiel’s ears, untrained in the nuances of human speech, that tiny voice sounded sad, nervous and ashamed all at the same time. The fire kept hissing and popping in front of him. Dean rested his chin on his upper arm, still glancing between Cas and the fire every couple seconds. 

Cas’ hand faltered just slightly before resuming his rhythm. “Your mother?”

Dean nodded softly, but the force was enough to knock one of those tears from his eyes. They both sat in momentary silence, neither knowing quite what to say. Sam and Jess’ laughter echoed from the kitchen and it hurt Dean in a surprisingly physical way. His chest clenched tight and his stomach threatened rebellion.

Castiel could feel the way Dean’s body reacted to the sounds and it pained him as well. He balled his fist into the blanket at Dean’s back before giving a light tug; it was enough to get Dean’s attention. He lifted his eyes and looked back to Cas, mutely clenching his jaw.

Cas just tugged again a little more demandingly.

“Dude, what is it?”

“Come here,” he spoke in that soft and still demanding voice.

Dean slowly shifted until he was seated between Cas’ legs, but he stubbornly refused to put his weight against his angel.

Castiel sighed at Dean’s usual reluctance and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. With the feeling of Cas’ stomach pressed warm against his back, he actually started to relax inch by inch. He was leaning fully against Cas before either of them spoke again.

“It just hurts, you know? Usually I can ignore it, but sometimes it just…” He left the sentence hanging and didn’t continue.

“What does, Dean?” Cas had an idea, but he wanted him to talk about it. He wasn’t going to speak without prompting, but his distress was steadily starting to leak away now that Cas was holding onto him, so maybe he could at least try to talk about this.

Dean turned his head and nuzzled his nose underneath Cas’ chin. The angel could feel some of the wetness on Dean’s cheeks and squeezed him tightly.

“I remember Christmas with Mom. Well… I can remember this one Christmas. But I have pictures of the others.” Dean reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a few polaroids. He flipped through them, giving Cas a chance to look at each one briefly. They were all pictures of a smiling baby Dean and wavy-haired Mary.

“Dad used to take pictures of Mom every chance he got—luckily he gave them to me when I got older. He would tell me about the Christmases I was too young to remember. She loved Christmas. Loved spending time with me and Dad. Sammy, though? He never had that. She was gone by then.” 

After a few moments of silence Dean let out a thick chuckle. “I remember from that one Christmas, they bought me this model truck. Just a cheap, colorful plastic thing, but I loved it. And Mom was pregnant. Not by much, but she knew for a little while. She let me roll it all over her stomach. She had told me earlier that morning that I was gonna have a little brother and I remember wanting to be able to play with him already. 

“Mom kept laughing because the wheels were tickling her and she—” Dean sniffed loudly and his attempt to keep his voice from wavering failed. “She pulled me into her side and hugged me tight. Rubbed my back and kissed my forehead and told me I’d make a great big brother.”

Cas kissed the top of Dean’s head and ran his hands over his upper arms. The gesture, he was told, was supposed to be comforting. Dean snuggled closer into Cas’ body and Cas tipped to lean them back against the edge of the couch. “We can just stay here like this, Dean. If that’s what you want.”

Dean nodded against his chest and sniffled slightly. “I’m ok, but, yeah. If we can just sit here for a while that would be nice. Then we’ll go help Sam and Jess with the food.”

“Ok.” Cas just held Dean in his arms and the two of them sat in comfortable silence, listening to the fire crackling in front of them. It was barely a breath, but from Dean’s mouth Cas was able to hear a very soft, “Merry Christmas, Mom.”


End file.
